Countering
by GIA-B
Summary: *PART 3 IS UP**RATING CHANGE**R VERSION OF PART 3 AVAILABLE* I always wondered what would have happened had Evie actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first “Mummy” fan fiction.
1. Countering Part 1

Title: Countering

Author: GIA B

Rating: PG-13-ish

Spoilers: The Mummy

Summary: I always wondered what would have happened had Evie actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first "Mummy" fan fiction. 

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, nor the preceding events, but only the situation that follows. These events are mere figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental.

***

Countering

***

"I… am a librarian," I can't help but smile with satisfaction at that title. It's true; I'm not an adventurer, or an explorer, or a treasure-seeker, _or_ a gunman, but I am proud of who I have become. My parents would be proud, I suppose.

My head refused to clear for a few moments, to give me some reprieve. Not that I was… drunk, or anything, like those drifters you might see down at any number of the casbahs Mr. O'Connell undoubtedly frequented. No, rather I was just pleasantly… uninhibited.  

And then went my balance.

I landed a bit indelicately in the sand in front of O'Connell, but the comfortable haze I was in cushioned any awkward-landing feelings I may have generated. He watched me; he's an observer by nature, I noticed. He watched me frequently. Often, when he thought I was not paying any attention to him. Under other circumstances, I thought I would find such observations perverse, but with him it did not seem as though he could have anything but the truest of intentions. 

As I watched him watch me, I saw a brief flicker in his eyes, which gave me the slight to speak my mind as a new thought began to form. "And, I am going to kiss you… Mr. O'Connell."

"You can call me Rick," he replied, and with the glee of a schoolgirl, I felt I have been given some precious gift. My cheeks no doubt lit-up and I could not help the excitement in my voice as it formulated his name. I tried to show him how sultry I could be, as I said his name and leaned forward. He leaned forward in kind, and my eyes drifted shut. I was told that when two people kiss passionately, their eyes are almost always closed. I had never been kissed passionately so I could not be sure of this fact, but, as my father used to always say, there is no time like the present to put a theory into practice.

He breached the last inch between our lips, and they stilled there for a moment. It did not seem real at first, and so I opened my eyes to watch him. His eyes were not closed, but rather were staring straight into mine, and we just sat there; our lips still touching, and our eyes never wavering. Then his lips moved, and caressed mine, and I was lost in a multitude of sensation. I wanted to close my eyes, but they were glued to his. The only response I could formulate was to move my lips and mimic his actions. Then he…nibbled--for lack of a better, more delicate word--my lips, and I opened them instinctively. My head was completely clear now, and it was as though my body had rid it self of all the alcohol I had consumed earlier. 

As my mouth opened, I felt his open as well and suddenly, without any known warning, I felt his tongue swipe my lips and dip ever so slightly into my mouth. I had never been kissed in this manner before, so it was not surprising that I was a little apprehensive about this step. But he dipped his tongue once again into my mouth, and when it connected with my tongue, the contact was not unpleasant in the slightest. 

My eyes had yet to slip closed, as I attempted to venture forth and mimic this new advancement. My tongue did not exactly move, but rather twitched in what would be pathetically excused as an action, but it still met his more firmly. My lips closed around this kiss, and it progressed slowly to the end. I noticed a moment later that his eyes had closed, and finally, having had nothing to watch as I did with his eyes, I closed mine as well. 

But as soon as they were shut, reality clamped its cold fingers around my stomach, and I pulled away.

"I can't," I said dumbly, and as comical as it was, Rick's lips were still moving slightly. I would laugh, if the situation had not been so serious. He registered that I had spoken, and what I had said, and his head droped to his chest. When he raised it, once again, his eyes bore into me with pending questions. "This was a mistake," was all I could say, and I stood and headed for my sleeping area.

***

"Oh, I've dreamed about this ever since I was a little girl," I said, clasping my hands to my mouth in excitement. The sarcophagus stood upright as Jonathon and… O'Connell attempted to open its lid. 

"You dream about dead guys?' O'Connell dead panned, and I returned a glare that showed him that I was less than amused. He dropped his gaze from mine, and I was again reminded of what happened the night before. He did not meet my gaze, as I watched him for a moment, and so I instead immersed myself back into the task at hand. 

I used one of the brushes that came from the toolkit O'Connell had given me the day before, as a "gift" I presumed, and as loathed as I was to admit it, I swooned for him when he did that. I brushed the cobwebs off the sarcophagus and let my fingers graze its cover and felt the ancient text impressions run underneath my skin. However, I noticed almost instantaneously that the incantations once chiseled onto this coffin have been scraped away at.

"Look," I said, taking a small step back to include Jonathon and O'Connell in on my explanation, "all the sacred spells have been chiseled off. This man was not only cursed in his lifetime, but in the next as well." The serious moment was broken by one of Jonathon's over-anxious, dim-witted responses.

We cracked open the case with our puzzle-box, but it stuck. O'Connell, using his brute strength, pulled on the lid and it begins to slowly give away. Suddenly, it wrenched back and fell forward a rather sickly sight: a still decaying, 3000 year old corpse.

It seemed I was not the only one who noticed this fact, and Jonathon and O'Connell stated as much. We also noticed etchings on the inside and deducted that the poor bugger mummified before us was done so with his life still in tact. A single oath was also etched into the inside of the lid, and I translated solemnly, "Death is only the beginning". But as interesting as it sounded, one fact still remained: we had turned up nothing useful to boast about to our American "brethren", as O'Connell put it before. O'Connell daringly pushed the mummy back into the sarcophagus and, with the useless help of Jonathon, pushed the stone-case back onto the ground, leaving the lid open for convenience sake. 

They, feeling the late day begin to take its toll, started heading for the exit. I held back a bit, not wanting to walk in awkward silence with O'Connell, especially with the night before terribly fresh in my mind. He noticed my hesitation and turned to look at me expectantly. I dropped my head away, and turned back to the open coffin. I did not hear his footsteps sift through the sand, and so I turned back around and met his eyes. 

"I think I'll stay here, and do a little… exploring and adventuring of my own." He seemed to see through my façade and, though it looked like he wanted to say something, he stayed silent. As I watched him go, I could not help but feel guilty for treating him so poorly. I was supposed to be a lady about things, and here I was acting like a selfish child. At least I had not gotten to the point of blaming him for my decidedly unladylike behavior the previous night. It was my fault, and I was determined not to let it happen again.

***

I had discovered the scarab skeletons over an hour earlier, and yet I refused to stand up and face them. I wanted to stay away, and disappear, back to Cairo. I also had discovered that this particular mummy was cursed with the "Hom-Dai" which was, of course, the most awful of all curses. 

He was an extraordinarily unpopular guy.

And as vital of information as that was, I still had not moved from my spot on the dirt floor. I was afraid, to be honest; afraid that if I let myself, I could do some serious damage, and I did not mean physically. But kissing him had felt so incredible, and though I had only been kissed twice before that by people outside of my family, I knew it would be by far one of the most exciting kisses I might ever experience. But denying it ever happened was equivalent to declaring myself a coward and I had come to far and struggled for far too long to take that title easily.

So I stood up, grabbed a few scarab skeletons, and headed back to the surface.

***

After explaining the plight at which our mummy friend had found himself in to the rest of the group, the majority of the group decided to call it a night, and retired to their respective tents. I stood too, intending to leave to my sleeping area, when a hand reached out quickly and engulfed my hand. 

O'Connell pulled me back towards him, as he sat there looking up at me. I had made a half-hearted attempt to pull my hand free, but he gripped it tighter. He didn't say a single word, but his expression said all that was necessary to say.

"I already told you," I said, my accent making this complaint seem far too lyrical for what the situation warranted, "I can't." He did not seem to understand, as he squeezed my hand tighter. He stood to join me at a fair level, and my eyes released his.

"Explain this to me," he pleaded, "because I don't understand." 

"I'm afraid," I replied softly after a moment of silence. His brow furrowed as though he was trying to make sense of this piece of information.

"Afraid that, what; I'm going to take advantage of your innocence?" That was a bad move, good sir.

"Ohhh," I huffed, "just because I may not have experience with intimacy as you apparently do, does not mean that I am innocent by any stretch of the imagination. And let it also be said that I am thoroughly appalled that you would think me so fickle as to naturally assume such a thing about someone I don't even know!"

"Then what are you afraid of? Oh and by the way," he said, releasing my hand and pointing his finger into my chest, "you just assumed that I have experience with _intimacy_, as you say, and you don't even know me!" I snarled at this, and his eyes twinkled ever so barely. 

"Do you really want to know?" I countered, throwing his own words from Cairo prison back into his face.

"Yeah, I really want to know."

"I'm afraid because I can't trust myself with you." As soon as the words were unleashed from the safe cavern of my mouth, I regretted them. Now he had a one-up, as the yanks would say, on me, and he could very easily use this against me. 

So I turned and calmly walked away, not giving him the opportunity to use it just yet.

***

End Part 1

_What do you all think? I wasn't sure how I wanted this exactly to play out, I just really wanted there to be a story out there where they had kissed when she had declared as much. So this is just that story._

_Reviews would be good, so I can decipher whether or not this is worth continuing. This is my first Mummy fic, and so I'm not secure in my standings here, but I tried my best to keep these characters as close to themselves as possible. Anyway, let me know!_

_-GIA_


	2. Countering Part 2

Title: Countering – Part 2

Author: GIA B

Rating: PG-13-ish

Spoilers: The Mummy

Summary: I always wondered what would have happened had Evy actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first "Mummy" fan fiction. 

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, nor the preceding events, but only the situation that follows. These events are mere figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental. The poetry featured in this story is not my work, and no money is being made. Copyright infringement not intended.

**_Author's Notes:__ The scenes that follow may or may not be similar to those in the movies. I have taken great license with this story and the characters, and I apologize to any and all who find the story being out of cannon offensive to the characters. It happens, and since it has already been written, you must simply accept it. Or, read another story. Either way, what is in the story stays. I said I apologize for it, I did not say that I regret writing it._**

***

Countering – Part 2  
***

The following day went by rather uneventfully; I spent the entire duration ignoring O'Connell, and he noticed. Not that I cared that he noticed, but for arguments sake, I'm including it. We continued excavating the dig site, and turned up nothing really that seemed important. This was unfortunate, because our old dig spot had turned up an amazing little artifact. It wasn't quite the book of Amun-Ra, but it was useful as well. 

"Well if their book was at the base of Anubis, then where is the book of Amun-Ra?" Jonathon asked, and sadly, for once, I could not venture an idea. The Bembridge Scholars had an intelligence that simple minds could not begin to fathom, so I wasn't even sure where to begin on questioning it. Had they gotten it wrong, purposefully, to hide its true whereabouts, or did they actually mix up the locations? I had no idea, and did not see an answer coming in the near future, all that I was sure of, was that the Book of Amun-Ra was still out there, and I was going to be the first one to find it.

The excavation went on in such a manner: digging aimlessly at the walls, and following cavern after cavern in search of something of importance, all the while cursing the American's because of their dumb luck. O'Connell was quiet for the most part, really only communicating a few words whenever was dictated, and then returning to his tasks, never once meeting my eyes. I was happy for the silence, if for the only reason being that I could have the opportunity to figure myself out. I thought Jonathon suspected something was up because when we decided to break for lunch, which was just as well, since there was really no point going about pretending there was more to discover within this crypt, and O'Connell left to retrieve food from our camp, he approached me and stated, "Something is up."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied indignantly.

"Sure, you do, sis," he replied happily, taking a seat beside me on a blanket we had set out, "and I'll let you in on a little secret: O'Connell, though it took me a while to realize this myself, is not the eleventh plague of Egypt." I laughed, simply because it was absurd, and Jonathon couldn't have been further from the truth. 

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed, and he just looked at me with that knowing look. O'Connell picked that moment to saunter in, carrying the food, and we went about eating in silence; Jonathon, watching our every moves; Myself, eating quietly and pretending not to notice every time O'Connell's hand caressed mine as he brushed sand into piles all around himself, and him, dividing his attention between watching me candidly and pushing sand into piles.

***

"I believe you need a key to open that book," I stated to the Egyptologist as he struggled to pry open the book. He scowled at me, and I walked away, immediately an idea forming in my head. Since I had the key within my grasp I could easily "borrow" the book from the Egyptologist. After all, Jonathon and O'Connell both condone it, in a sense.

As the night claimed the American group in sleep, I crept silently up to the doctor and quietly and slowly removed the heavy book from beneath his sleeping grasp. He did not stir, and so I was in the clear. I walked briskly back to our camp, placed the book on a flat surface, and then crept over to wear Jonathon lay passed out, and removed the key from within his coat pocket.

"That's call stealing, you know?" There was that voice I remembered. Rather then ignoring him further, I responded in kind to his easy teasing. 

"According to you and my brother, it's called 'borrowing'." I heard him rise from where he had just been sleeping, or dozing rather, and he sat next to me as I kneeled in the sand and placed the key into the slot and turned it with a bit of force. 

  
"I thought that the book of Amun-Ra was gold…" 

"This," I said, as a smile spread across my face, "is not the book of Amun-Ra." The latches slapped open and I opened the book, and felt its weight in my hands as I slid the "pages" open. "I think this is the book of the dead."

"Should you be playing around with that?" 

"Oh, truly O'Connell, it's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book." As I slid my fingers over the inscribed incantations, I read them aloud.

I never realized how soon I would be eating my last uttered English words.

***

So much had occurred, and had I not been there to witness it first stand myself, I would probably not have believed that a 3000-year-old mummy was alive, kicking, or rather taking appendages and organs, and was after me. But we had fled to Cairo because of this, and it was the reason Rick and I were fighting at this particular moment in my bed quarters at Fort Brydon. I thought we should stay and fight Imhotep; send him back to whatever hell he came from.

Rick disagreed.

"Is that my problem?" Oh what a man! He could be intelligent once instance, and then idiotic beyond any possible course of repair. 

"It is everyone's problem." As though that needed to be said. Could it be more obvious: if we didn't stop him, the whole of the world was in grave danger. 

We stopped circling my luggage, finally, and he pivoted toward me. "Evelyn, I agreed to take you out there and bring you back," he stated calmly, "and I did; now we're even, end of job, contract terminated!" 

I stared shocked, how could he say that to me? I suppose every one of my emotions played horribly on my face, because at that moment he reached for my hand. I let him grasp it, and I felt him squeeze. I should have taken it back, but I liked the contact, and I was indulging just this once. 

"You mean more to me then a contract," he whispered, as though reading my trepidation. I shook my head, not believing him. He reached his other hand up and cupped my jaw, pulling my eyes to his. He smiled at the desperation, as though the victory did, in deed, taste sweet. I dislodged my jaw from his hand, and tried to pull my hand, he just held on tighter. "Now," he continued, "you can come with me, or you can stay here and try to save the world." 

I wanted to go with him, believe me I did. But I truly saw this as my quest. Why else would this have happened to me, and not some other librarian? I believe he was meant to be here with me to help me, but if he thought not, I wasn't about to beg. 

"I'm staying," I confirmed. He dropped his head, and shook it gently. I wanted to retract my decision right then, as he did that, and that just confirmed my answer more so. If I spent anymore time with him, who knew what he could convince me to do.

Dropping my hand, he threw up his arms into the air in a dramatic show of exasperation. He headed towards the door and I followed to a point. "Fine!"

"Fine," I shouted back.

"Fine." He always had to get the last word, and with that the door slammed with a reverberation that could be heard even in the cold chambers of my heart. As it beat faster then it had ever beat before. 

It was while later during that same day that I saw him again. I hadn't expected him to actually leave, but the satisfaction of seeing him return was just to great, and I could not with hold the arrogant grin that danced on my lips when I saw him. It was unfortunate that I could not relish in these emotions, because when he stated we had problems, ignited sulfur decided to make its theatrical entrance.  

And soon we were running, towards what, I was not too sure. As it were, we ran into O'Connell's "friend" Beni and after a brief "chat" with him, we were running towards my room again. Now, I was not going to mention this but as we ran up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room, our hands were clasped together, and I must say, he has a power that emanates more so then originally presumed. Now that that is out of the way, back to the problem that now faced us: How to stop Imhotep.

When we found our dear American friend, Mr. Burns, he was in an unfortunate state; his entire soul and life-force sucked out of his body. Terrible state, really, and a horrid look he had permanently on his face. If I never had to see that look, I would be too grateful. But he was truly the last thing on my mind, when I saw, who was now referred to as, "the creature" regenerating before us. O'Connell, bless his moronic heart, tried to shoot the creature as he neared us. Too bad for us, immortal weapons couldn't kill him. And too bad for O'Connell, the creature had a strength not even he could match. As he threw him, the remaining American's chose that moment to enter into the scene, and fall flat on their backs as O'Connell landed unceremoniously atop of them.

Now the creature was approaching me, and I could do nothing but be girly and disgusted by his advances. He tried to kiss me, granted, and he had little to no facial skin, and he told me that _I saved him, but I was still appalled at the fact that I could not be indifferent at this stage in the game. Suddenly, a rather disgusting note played on the piano opposite from us. The distraction provoked the creature to turn and let his eyes fall upon my harmless white cat. _

Unexpectedly, he screamed, and then burst into a sand storm, and we all had to duck to avoid the flying granules. When that was finished, it was a unanimous decision to get some bloody answers. And there was truly only one person capable of doing just that.

***

After we discovered the truth about two things; Imhotep, and the appearance of the Med-Jai, we all congregated in my foyer of my room. O'Connell stared out the window, and I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I was afraid to ask him. It was not my place to know the inner-workings of his mind. 

We figured out who had opened the chest, and by extension, who was most likely to be killed as Imhotep's next victims. Daniel, Henderson, and the Egyptologist were the only ones left who had opened that chest, and the Egyptologist wasn't with us. 

"We must find the Egyptologist and bring him back here to the safety of the fort, before the creature can get to him," I said, and O'Connell seemed to agree. He glanced between Daniel, Henderson, and I before appearing to come to some sort of a decision.

"You two with me, you," he said to me, "stay here."

How dare he!? Who did he think he was? I gave him my two cents about his completely ridiculous idea. Just because I was a woman did not mean I could not handle a position of importance in this battle! I approached him, all the while, giving him a piece of my mind. I was in the middle of a particularly good rant-point, when the Neanderthal of a man hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me into my room. He plopped me on my bed and then turned back to shut the doors. Turning to me, he appeared angry, and his scowl was a bit intimidating, but I was undeterred in my anger as well.

"Who put you in charge, O'Connell?" I demanded. But I did not receive an answer, and I'll tell you why. This man, whom I should have strangled the moment he brought us back to Cairo, cupped my face in his big hands, and kissed me. His lips were hard, as were mine, but with a bit of coaxing both of our lips softened considerably. My hands held his upper arms, as our heads dipped back and forth not allowing the contact to really break. I chalked up my response to being instinctive, after all, what more could I have done? Precisely my point. 

His hands sifted through my hair, and he moved his lips to place gentle nipping kisses on my jaw-line. He pulled back, and I was breathless, and stupidly blushing. I bit my lip, and I could feel a bruise forming underneath the delicate skin of my lip, but at this moment, I did not particularly care much.

"You will stay here," he ordered, and my anger returned ten-fold. 

"Well I have never in my life—" I did not have the opportunity to finish that thought, as he stormed through the doors. I could see the looks of the American's, and knew instantaneously that they knew what had just happened. Not that they could have thought otherwise; one minute I'm shouting and commanding, and the next there's silence? I was naïve at times, sure, but not that naïve.

I heard the brute give orders that no one was to enter my room, and I was not to leave. That brute, who did he think was? If only my brother wasn't such a coward, perhaps I would have had a fighting chance. 

***

I knew this was a dream. 

Why else would I be engaging in sexual congress with _Rick O'Connell? But since it was, in fact, a dream, I was willing to let it play out without my waking intervention. I had a gift that way; I could wake myself, if I wanted, in most cases. This was not one of those cases, however. Even if he was a cruel person, and a decidedly unwelcome travel mate, he certainly had one thing going for him: sexuality. The man bathed in it. He **was** like the men I had read about in those romance rubbish books. _

So my dream played out without interruption. At the present moment, the dream version of O'Connell was making me laugh with some inane joke that in the waking world I would not have found even slightly amusing, but anyway. He was kissing my knee, and making his way up my thigh, his "five-o'clock" shadow brushing teasingly against my skin. He kissed my stomach and my abdomen, and then my collar bone, and finally my lips. It was an extremely erotic, albeit fake, experience, and it seemed real no matter how fake I knew it to be. 

But it seemed so real. So real in fact, my brain could not take the intensity any further, and I had to open my eyes. Upon which my eyes met that off the slowly decaying, but mostly all there, face of the now deceased Imhotep. 

"Ahhhh!" my scream bellowed off the bedroom walls, and I heard O'Connell say something dramatic, before holding up my cat to Imhotep in a defense that worked quite well. 

"Are you okay?" he asked me, a minute later. Naturally, my brother never being quite the smartest person to grace the world replied but I'm sure Rick, err—O'Connell got the point. 

***

We spent that night recuperating. I tried to sleep as much as was possible, but found it increasingly difficult. The men were playing poker, with the exception of O'Connell who sat alone on a chair in my bedroom reading some of the books I had brought along with me. He was doing research, I thought, on mummies and their general habits as myth dictated. 

One could certainly not call O'Connell an idiot. Though he made stupid mistakes sometimes, he was not without more than his fair share of intelligence. I walked up towards him, attempting not to disturb him, and sat across from him on my bed.

"Do you always watch people as they read?" he asked, his head not looking up. I smiled. 

"Not always." I was glad, in a way, to return to some light banter. The last few days had been more then strenuous, and it was definitely beginning to wear on my nerves. I flopped back on the bed, and felt my weight sink into the mattress slightly. He went about reading his book, and I attempted to nap, just a moment or two. 

"This is really interesting," he said, moving up from his chair. My eyes were closed, and so I only felt the mattress sink, as he joined me atop it. Under normal circumstances, I would be completely out of sorts about this sort of advancement, but I was much too tired to protest at great length. "Did you know that Tutankhamen was found buried with a gold mask on his mummified body, and that he was buried with jewelry, and his coffin was made of gold," he continued. I knew all about King Tut, and though I had gotten sick of hearing about him and the great discovery by Mr. Howard Carter, I let him continue on in this manner. I turned toward him, and snuggled further into my pillows as he recited verbatim the excavation of the tomb of King Tut that I had read a few times before.

He stood and returned the book to my bureau, and I stretched my arms to touch the slope and indentation that he had left when he had laid down, and as he returned there was a quiet knock at my bedroom door. Jonathon walked in, a moment later, and surveyed the image before him: Rick O'Connell standing by my bed, and me lying atop it with my arms splayed out a bit, to occupy the space O'Connell had just vacated. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Jonathon muttered, putting his hands up in surrender. I rolled my eyes, at my brother's non-to-subtle remarks, "I just wanted to inform you that the American chaps and I are retiring to the casbah downstairs, and then off to our own rooms afterwards." He eyed O'Connell for a moment, then continued, looking towards O'Connell, "I'll lock the door to the room, so don't worry about it being unlocked while you're not there. Goodnight sis," he said to me. He turned and shut the door.

"Decency and discretion, Jonathon," I ground out between my tightly shut teeth. O'Connell just raised an eyebrow at me, and then grabbed another book from atop the bureau.

"Italian poetry?" He chuckled a bit, before looking at me expectantly. "I didn't know you knew Italian."

"I don't," I said groggily, "I just like to listen to people read it to me."

"Is that the romantic coming out of the hard-as-a-rock Carnahan?" he teased lightly, before settling back on the bed. As he laid down, he trapped my right hand underneath him, so I shoved him to move forward so I could retrieve it. I slid my hand out from underneath him as he turned towards me, "Do you want me to read you some?"

I couldn't help it! I had to laugh, the situation was far too comical. He seemed hurt, and I felt guilty for laughing, but, honestly, Rick O'Connell reading me Italian Love Poetry? Would you have believed it when you heard it?

"If you want to, you're going to do it anyway, no matter how I protest."

"After hearing my _languid_ voice, you won't be protesting much," he grinned and I narrowed my eyebrows, and rotated to face the ceiling.

"Well, I much doubt that, but get on with it."

_il buio unì due corpi  
tra gli ulivi  
in un pianto distrutto  
due anime._

My eyes opened instantaneously. I knew this one, and I knew what the words meant. I glanced briefly at him, and he continued fluently through the poem.

_persone tra i tavoli del bar  
fantasmi sui muri  
lacrime nel cielo  
sogni lungo i passi della sera._

He couldn't possibly know what the words meant. It was probably a random poem, and he was as indifferent to it as if it were a poem about elephants running an ice cream store, rather then one about love and devotion. I was so sure of this until he turned his eyes up to me, continuing to recite the poem.

_li dividevano   
la povertà, la malattia  
lui non poteva  
starle vicino, viverla.  
Lei pianse in silenzio._

_in tre in silenzio e seduti al tramonto,  
lei la gatta era gravida e incurvata di bontà._

_quelle fragili piume  
mi mancano i fremiti, lacrime  
gli itinerari tortuosi nei vicoli  
le ascese,  
i tramonti che si aprono  
le pietre antiche e i cipressi  
le more;  
mi mancano i sogni e i fantasmi;  
quella dolce eccitazione del tè  
prima del treno che va  
per unire  
per sempre._

I was transfixed by his gaze. I could not believe he knew the words, and was saying them to me now. 

He flipped the page, as if he was still reading it. The pages were worn as I had read it many times before, as had a few of my would-be suitors, knowing it was my favorite. I wanted to cry, because for the first time since I heard this poem uttered from another's mouth, I wanted it to be truly for me. I wanted to cry because it was this man, lying still with the only movements being his eyes going between mine and his lips whispering the beautiful words. I know it sounds trite, and far too poetic, but this was what I felt at the core of me. 

_è un sorriso  
una speranza, un volo  
nel cielo,  
una rosa tra le violette,  
un girasole lucente,  
un grillo tra le verdure  
nel sole che nasce,  
l'odore delle ginestre nel monte,  
il cinguettio degli uccelli,  
l'ulivo ritorto,  
la carezza del vento del sud._

_con corpi distesi che si sfiorano  
fra i gialli i rosa i rossi  
delle case del porto,  
nelle acque smeraldo,  
tra i vicoli intrecciati d'amore,  
lungo i sentieri in cammino  
verso il sole,  
fra i fiori di campo—_

I held my breath as he stopped. 

"I don't know the rest," he muttered quickly. I turned my head toward him, and saw the apprehension in his eyes. 

"Yes you do," I said before I could think. What was I saying? It was for the best that he didn't say the last words. This had become far too personal, and it had to stop right then and there, and yet I waited patiently for an answer. He looked between me and the book for a second, and then took a deep breath.

"No I don't," he whispered so soft that it was hard to hear with the pounding of my heart in my ears. I huffed a deep breath, and then sat up and got off the bed. I grabbed the book from his hands and threw it to the chair he had sat in earlier that night. 

"You're a coward!" He laid there with his eyes downcast, and I stomped to the bedroom door. I didn't actually hear what he said, as my rage can sometimes block out external sounds, and so when I pivoted towards him with confusion he dropped his eyes. "What did you say?"

"_ho detto ti amo." _I was breathless, and had barely a moment to catch a small lungful of air before I fell against the still-closed door and slid to the ground. O'Connell rushed off the bed in an instant, thinking I was injured or something. He cupped my flush cheeks and felt my neck for the pulse that vibrated against my neck. When he was brushing my hair out of my face to feel my forehead for a fever, I got in touch with my impulsive side. 

I leaned forward and captured his lips. 

He was certainly shocked, because he tried to pull back, but my lips pursued his. When I caught them again, he got the hang of it better. His lips grasped mine, his tongue sneaking out instinctively to brush against my bottom lip. I opened my mouth, in offering, and our tongues met up with the dark sanction of my mouth, and I couldn't get enough. I didn't know what possessed me, but as we continued it seemed undeniably right. 

I dropped small kisses on his cheeks, feeling more bold as the moment progressed, and I heard him let out a ragged breath. "Evy," he breathed.

"Shh," I silenced him with a well-placed kiss to his neck, "It's okay, just let it happen." I had him and I was relishing in the fire the information ignited within me. He let out a deep, resonating growl in his throat, and suddenly I was pushed up against the door and he was ravishing my neck. My head slammed against the door, as I gave over to this. This kiss definitely blew the other ones out of the water. 

"I need—" Was that my voice?! Goodness, what had this resorted me to? He grinned against my collar-bone. I bit my lip, and groaned. "L-l-love me," I muttered. He slowly lifted his head to look me in the eyes. I opened them unwillingly, and he watched the surrender flicker. He leaned forward to kiss me, and at once, pulled back.

Completely away from me. 

He stood, and my eyes widened in confusion, and I stood up, meaning to reach for him.   
  


"I can't-can't do this," he mumbled quickly before stepping behind me to open the door, and leave. The door closed with an audible click, and it resonated in my ears, and the tears came unbidden to my eyes. I had given in completely, and lost everything.

I would not make that mistake twice.

***

Poems

By Romeo Guili

_two souls  
in the darkness  
among the olive trees.  
A cry, desperate  
creates their bond._

_people, seated,  
bar tables.  
Fleeting shadows on the walls  
star tears in heaven  
dreams evoked  
by distant footsteps  
in the night._

_poverty, sickness  
separated them.  
He stood distant  
longing for closeness.  
in the silence, she wept._

_in three, in silence, seated at sunset  
the cat, languid, heavy with the birth-to-be._

_I miss  
the tears  
the sensibility delicate  
as feathers,  
the tortuous windings  
along secret paths  
the ascents  
the sunsets that tinted  
the time-worn stones,  
the cypress, the myrtle,  
I miss  
the dreams, the ghosts  
the sweet teas  
sipped before the parting train  
that separated  
to unit._

_***_

DONE PART 2 FINALLY! God, it only took me… however long it took me! I really hope you all liked this chapter, as it was probably the hardest chapter I've ever had to write, for anything! 

As always, feedback is so very important, and I totally feed off it. Flames and all! As for those who did review the last chapter, thanks so much! I was really grateful for the exemplary response, and am hoping for the same enthusiasm this time around. ;)

Sincerely, 

GIA

P.S. The excerpts of poems were written by Romeo Guili, and can be read in their entirety here:   


I have no affiliation with Romeo Guili, but rather much appreciated his writings. As well, I don't think these are part of a consecutive poem, but are rather several poems, but I liked them all, and decided to show them as though they were one whole poem. 


	3. Countering Part 3 PG13 VERSION

Title: Countering – Part 3

Author: GIA B

Rating: This is the PG-13 Version of the story

Spoilers: The Mummy

Summary: I always wondered what would have happened had Evy actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first "Mummy" fan fiction. 

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, nor the preceding events, but only the situation that follows. These events are mere figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental. The poetry featured in this story is not my work, and no money is being made. Copyright infringement not intended.

**_Author's Notes: _**_Okay, so firstly, I feel terribly sorry to those who have no idea why Evelyn became all… crazy-like when Rick said the last line of the Italian poem, and the reason for that being, is because I accidentally left out the last two poems so you had no way of knowing what she was reacting to. My bad, and so I have included them here:  
  
she is a smile  
a hope, a flight  
into the blue  
a rose among the violets  
a bright sunflower,  
a cricket in the morning sun  
the perfume of juniper in the mountains  
the chirping of the birds  
the twisted olive tree  
the caress of the south wind._

_And this here was the one where he refused to say the last line, and then she called him a coward: _

with bodies, relaxed,  
that barely touched  
lost among the yellows, the pinks, the red  
flower-houses of the little wharf  
reflected in the emerald waters,  
hidden among the winding streets  
perfumed with love  
along the footpaths that carried us  
towards the sun  
among the field flowers I said  
I love you.

_Secondly (Oh dear, this is certainly becoming a long "Author's Notes"), the rating has changed and it is because the conclusion of this chapter will no doubt include sexual situations. I am also releasing the chapter with a PG-13 rating, for those of you who would rather read that. Anyway, on with the story. Oh wait, I lied, I just had a recent epiphany… In the previous part, I made reference to the Americans… which would be impossible as there would only be one since __Henderson__ was killed. Goodness me, I feel terrible about that, but one can not take back what has already been published. So further more, __Henderson__ is still alive, he joined his friend to fetch the drinks, figuring they wouldn't be long. Done and done. _J____

***

Countering – Part 3

***

We raced through Cairo streets, heading toward the Museum of Antiquities. Jonathon driving, I in the middle, O'Connell sandwiched between myself and the door, and Henderson and Daniels in the back.  

We had been safe for the most part of last night and straight through today, keeping our cat in the quarters with us, knowing Imhotep had yet to fully regenerate. Two more to go it seemed, and an additional victim to resurrect his dead love: Me. I was terribly frightened of this fact, much like one would be terribly frightened if they knew they were to be guillotined or something. I was shaking, which was a bit pathetic, but it was a scary situation we all found ourselves in. 

We had spent the entire day readying ourselves for what was assumed to be a bloody battle. I didn't want to admit it straight away, but I wasn't as anxious about fighting as I let on. I was actually quite petrified that something would go wrong, and we would all die because of me. But that's really what was happening here; we were all going to die because I read the book and brought Imhotep back. We had managed to escape the fort without O'Connell's friend Beni seeing us. The imbecile having slept on the job, gave us the perfect opportunity to leave. So now we were gone and away.

Finally, we arrived at the Museum, and I explained my theory about the books as we headed up the stairs. We were met by the curator and the Medjai, Ardeth Bay who joined us up the stairs.

"If the black book can bring someone back to life," I told O'Connell. It clicked in his head where I was heading with this.

"Then the gold book can take it away," he finished. I nodded solemnly.

"That's the myth." 

We were interrupted by loud moaning coming from the driveway of the museum.  We all ran to the window to view the spectacle of death below us. There were hundreds of people swarming the museum, covered in grotesque boils and sores. 

Jonathon couldn't help but point out the obvious in that respect, keeping up a running commentary on each of the plagues we had encountered.

"It has begun," Ardeth informed us. I wasn't going to let it end like this, there was far too much left for me to do in this world. By the way, none of which included anything to do with Mister O'Connell. I have closed that chapter of my life, indefinitely. But I still couldn't let him die, or anyone for that matter, and so I declared that we still had a chance. 

"Bembridge scholars said that the golden book of Amun-Ra was at the base of Anubis," I explained, searching the hieroglyphics on the stone in the Ancient Egyptian display. 

"That's where we found the black book," Daniels chimed in. 

"Yes, they mixed up the books… mixed up where they were located. So if the black book was at the base of Anubis, then the gold book is…" I searched as quickly as I could. Reading hieroglyphics always seemed easy, but with the pressure of the entire world being at stake it seemed harder to locate what I was looking for.

Jonathon made this fact known with his complaints.

"Patience is a virtue," I said, in my characteristic sing-song voice. O'Connell, who had been monitoring the mob, turned back towards the group.

"Not now it isn't," he replied, the terror and danger in his voice. I had to keep reading, I had to find that location, I had to save my friends.

"Got it!" I yelped when the location began to unravel, "The golden book of Amun-Ra is at the base of the statue of Horus!" There was a communal sigh heard throughout the room.

"Take that Bembridge Scholars!" I declared, throwing my fist into the air in a 'good show' type fashion. But O'Connell, never one to let any opportunity to complain pass him by, groaned.

"Don't tell me, we have to go back there."

"If we want to kill the creature," Ardeth explained, "Yes."

The crash of the museum door being smashed open, distracts us from our victory. The mob maneuvered its way past the doors and was heading our direction, all the while chanting, 'Imhotep'. Jonathon, my dear, sweet, cowardly, older brother, could not find it within himself to fight alongside Ardeth and O'Connell, and made an excuse to go fetch the car.

It was just as well, since we didn't spend much time fighting them anyway. We ran off down the hall, the curator leading us to a back exit. We exited the building, and raced towards Jonathon's car. Just as we gathered into the automobile, the snake himself Beni shouted to his prince, to bring his attention to us.   
  


"You're going to get yours, Beni, you're going to get yours!" O'Connell announced, and then sat back in the car as we sped down the drive way. 

The feeling in my stomach was disgusting. I clutched at it, as though the pressure of my hands would make it go away. I felt another pairs of hands gently squeeze my stomach sides. 

"Are you okay?" I heard O'Connell ask. I swiped his hands away.

"Bugger off," I replied. He dropped his hands, and sat stoically beside me. _That was rude,_ I thought. _Evelyn, the man was just showing concern about you, you didn't have to treat him so badly_. I didn't care at this point; he lost all opportunity to have me accept his concern when he deserted me yesterday. Now, as childish as it sounded, he was going to get my ice. 

We lurched forward, when Jonathon immediately pulled the car to a stop. There, before us, was a barricade of Imhotep's slaves. Covered in boils, and posing an immediate threat. O'Connell reacted first, by forcing Jonathon's foot on the gas using his own foot. We sailed through the street, knocking off men as we went. Several managed to hold on to the vehicle, but we dislodged the most of them. 

"O'Connell! Henderson!" That was Daniels' voice, as he was pulled to the road by a few of the slaves. We couldn't stop, but Henderson knew he had to defend his friend. He jumped off the side, and ran towards Daniels. We lost sight of them, then, and we continued as quickly as we could.

Until, of course, another obstacle developed. A large stack of rubbish lay in the street, in the most inconvenient spot. We tried to slow down to avoid it, but we were going to fast. Even with the slightly slowed pace, we crashed into the obstacles anyway. We had no time to compose ourselves, as the mob approached us quickly. I stood on the edge of the car, and went to jump. O'Connell held out his hands for me to take, to balance myself as I came to the road, but I pushed them away. He held strong though; he wasn't about to let me get rid of him completely. 

We were soon surrounded by the mob, and the threat of death seemed all too real. But they didn't approach us, but rather, spread apart to form a gap, and through this gap stepped Imhotep. 
    
    "He has consummated the curse, now all he need do is raise Anck-su-namun from the dead, then it will be the end of us, and the beginning for them," the curator said. The feeling in my stomach intensified, and suddenly, I wished O'Connell was there to give my some extra help.

He spoke to me, the Hebrew words being translated by his accomplice Beni. 

"Come with me, my Princess. It is time to make you mine, forever." Good gracious, did the man know nothing?

"For all eternity, idiot." There's a subtle difference. Imhotep extended his hand toward me, expecting me to take it. He spoke again, and again, Beni translated.

"Take my hand, and I will spare your friends." I had to. If I didn't, they would all die, and their blood would be on my hands. 

I glanced toward Jonathon, who did not look at me, then to the curator, who I hoped was thinking 'I can't lose her! She's the only one within a thousand miles who can properly code and catalogue my library!'. I didn't think that was the case, but if I was going to die, I wanted to die knowing I had friends. 

It was true; I wanted to die with friends. For the first time in my life, I had a friend who wasn't my brother. I had more then one. I had love from others, and I was giving love… to… others. No, that's not what I meant. I meant that I loved, in the friendly fashion, people other then my own family. None of whom was O'Connell. He denied my love, and therefore did not deserve it, even if I was to die. 

But even as I thought this, my head turned to look at him, torch in hand, eyes narrowed, mouth hard in defiance. Ever the hero; ever the foil to my mousy librarian type. What was I giving up, going to Imhotep? Was I sacrificing love, or was I merely defending my friends? I didn't want to dwell to long on this, but I needed a solution.

"Got any bright ideas?" I asked him.

"I'm thinking," he replied, his hand extending a bit over to cover me. 

"Well," I said, stepping closer to him, "think faster. Because if he turns me into a mummy," he turned to look at me, and I tried my hardest not to betray myself when I spoke, "you're the first one I'm coming after." With that between us, I stepped forward, towards Imhotep.

"No," I heard him say behind me. My heart sped up, and my eyes held back the tears that threatened to spill from my tear ducts. He cocked his gun, and I had to stop him from making the mistake of shooting Imhotep.

"He still has to take me back to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual," I explained. I wanted to run to him, I wanted to kiss him, because despite myself, I loved him. Despite everything I had built up, and every wall I had erected, he had gotten past them without any effort at all. I let him in, and I fell harder then I had ever fallen before in my life. 

So I did.

I ran past Imhotep to O'Connell, pushed his extended arm down, and kissed him. It was fleeting, but electric. I could have kissed him longer, forever, if Imhotep hadn't wrenched me from him, and stalked off. 

"Evelyn!" O'Connell cried, and I was so near tears I was sure I would have embarrassed myself royally if I so much as looked behind me.

"Kill them all," Imhotep said, and I translated. My eyes grew wide, and I tried to pull myself free from him.

"No! Rick! Jonathon!" What was I going to do? Tell them to run? Where? There wasn't any place to go. But I had to get away from Imhotep. "Let me go!"

I was pulled harder to follow, and I couldn't see behind me; couldn't see his face beyond the crowd. But I had to believe he made it. I had to believe he didn't die, that he would live, and it would all be okay. Even if he didn't love me as much as I loved him, even if he didn't need me as I needed him, he would be alive, and it would be okay.

I was pulled up into a gust of sand, and I blacked out. 

***

My life has never been as eventful as this past week. To sum it up in a few chaste sentences: I resurrected a 3000-year-old mummy; I've run from one side of Egypt to the other, twice! I've been chained to a sacrificial alter, fought hand-to-hand with another 3000-year-old mummy partially resurrected by the former 3000-year-old mummy; and, I fell in love.

Now the latter seems less then eventful, but truly, I must express how rare of an occurrence it is that I not only find someone attractive, but I develop intense romantic feelings for this person. The person in question is an ex-legionnaire, with roguish looks, and a fondness for being the hero to my damsel in distress. Though I wasn't one to admit weakness, when it came to fending off mummies, I was glad to allow another to be the savior. 

But he did. He saved me over, and over, and over again. He saved me from being killed so that Anck-su-namun could live, and he got me out of Hamunaptra before I was crushed under the collapse of it. All the while, I was falling harder and faster for him. A terrible state it is: being in love with a man you hate more then you can possibly imagine. But I do hate him, because I surrendered my principles so that I could be with him, and he threw it back in my face.   
  
I kissed him in the streets of Cairo, in front of Jonathon, the Curator, Ardeth, and Imhotep, because I was afraid I would never get the opportunity. Boy do I regret it, because ever since he got me back to Cairo the second time he has had a smug grin on his face. 

I have never been more inclined to slap someone in all my life.   

I bet he thinks there will be a repeat performance, but I beg to differ, after all, it was he who pushed me away the other night, and not the other way around. If only he would stop bloody grinning at me, I could get some serious work done. 

As it was, we were dating and identifying the treasure we found upon our arrival back to Cairo. Our best guess was it was that greedy rat, Beni, who had filled the saddle bags full of gold trinkets, daggers, rings, and other valuable treasures. 

"Just think, Evy," O'Connell said, lifting up a beautiful ruby pear-cut ring to the light, "we can live the rest of our lives never working ever again. You won't have to work at the museum, and I won't have to… be an unscrupulous character," he finished with a chuckle.

"Yes, well, I would much rather live alone, thank you very much and I happen to love working at the museum," I concluded, placing a gold dagger with a curved hilt into the 'sell' pile. He gave me the ever familiar, 'Evelyn-Carnahan-isn't-any-fun' look I used to receive most every day as a child in grade school, when I would rather read in the library, then play outside with Jonathon and his friends. I rolled my eyes, and picked up another artifact and examined it. 

It was silent for a while, between us, until, "Evelyn?"

"Yes?" I sighed.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry for not being able to…" he trailed off, and I was silent as I considered him. Did I really want to approach this topic, or run in the complete opposite direction? Rather then make an actual decision, I simply stared at him. He wasn't looking at me, but was kneading his fingers and knuckles. I dropped my gaze, and looked at the floor. He cleared his throat, and I saw, from beneath my eyelids, him raise his head. "Do you forgive me?"

To this I had an answer, that was easy to convey.

"No." We were silent again, and the silence felt tangible enough to cave in my chest. I could see him shake his head, before he raised his hands to wipe his face. I liked to think he was trying to scrape away his shame, but that was silly.

"Do you even know why I did it?" he asked, after a time. I didn't answer at first, but rather thought if my silence was all he got that he might up and leave, but he stayed, waited for an answer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Well," he said bitterly, "you seem to think I don't deserve your forgiveness without knowing the logic behind what I did, so I guess not." He stood then, and I took in a deep breath.

"So tell me already," I said just as he reached for the door handle. He turned, but said nothing. He leaned against the door, and slid down it, much the same way I had done that night. He bent his knees and rested his arms on them casually.

"I didn't want you to give it to me. I didn't deserve it."

"It? What are you talking about?" I shook my head, trying to clear it of his nonsense.   
  


"Your innocence," he whispered. I sat there, mouth agape, and chest heaving.   
  


"I beg your pardon," I demanded quietly, after a moment of gathering my composure.

"You heard me; your innocence. I didn't want your first time to be with me… with an _unscrupulous character_." 

"How dare you," I muttered under my breath. Getting louder, I repeated, "How dare you! Who do you think you are? You are not my brother—"

"Well," he interrupted, "if I was, we wouldn't be even having this conversation." 

"You do not get the right to choose what is best for me," I continued, as though he hadn't said a thing. "I have known some _unscrupulous characters, as you say, but you're right about one thing, you are by far the worst of them all." _

My head hurt from all the anger that flooded through my body. But there was another thing, something I couldn't identify, and it only seemed to amplify as the argument and volume increased. 

"I just wanted it be perfect!" he countered. 

I shook my head, and shouted back, "How do you know it would not have been perfect? You threw it away before we even had a chance to find out."

"It's for the best," he mumbled, "You would have regretted it later, I'm sure."  
  


"Just because you can get away with it from other girls, I'm more then positive that you've been involved with, doesn't mean I will stand for your chauvinistic attitude. I do not appreciate being treated like a child!"

"I'm not treating you--"

"But you are," I cried. My shoulders slumped forward, as the desperation engulfed me. I cried for the injustice of the tears, for the pain that provoked them, and for the love I fought so hard to keep, but struggled to let loose. 

I heard him crawl towards me, and felt him wrap his arms around me. I pushed, but he held on, and I pulled at his shirt to dislodge his hands, but he gripped tighter.

"Don't touch me," I commanded, or at least tried to, but it ended up coming out as a plea. He pulled me into his embrace, and I struggled against his strength. "Don't—"

I didn't have an opportunity to finish that order, as my mouth became otherwise occupied

***

When I awoke the next morning, the blankets, which we had neglected more or less the night before, were around me to my chin. I snuggled further in, feeling the warmth on my bare skin. I knew he wasn't there, so I wasn't surprised when I rolled over to take up more room that I didn't encounter his equally warm, naked body. 

I opened my eyes slowly, flipped onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling. I ached in places I had no idea even existed, and it made me grin to think how I discovered their existence. But at what cost? I suddenly wondered. Had I thrown away all my principles for what could be coined as being, "One night of bliss"?

No, I had just finally gotten the courage to express how I felt. 

But I hadn't said the words, and that was what scared me, to be brutally honest. I didn't think I could possibly love someone, or something, other then my beloved career and what I had left of my family. It scared me, but I did. I had tested the waters that first night, when _Mr. O'Connell got me a bit inebriated, and then I couldn't go forward. _

I was scared that I was going to give in to someone who couldn't possibly return my feelings, and I was always told love is better when it's reciprocated. So I pulled back, and gave him the cool treatment for a while. He took a few liberties with me a day or so later, in my bedroom, when he commanded I stay there. I felt vibrancy in our kiss that had not existed in the kiss before. A newness that felt ageless, timeless, real, and old all at the same time. I would have given in right then as well, but he had a duty he wanted to maintain, and so it ended, and he sparked my anger once more by not allowing me the opportunity to clean up my own mess like some bloody hero! Then he came back that night, having not brought the Egyptologist with him, and having had a bad run-in with the creature. He crashed in my living room with one of my books, choosing not to play cards with Jonathon and the others. I didn't mind, because soon after, he read me some poetry in Italian. Then we kissed, and I had him at my mercy… at least for a moment or two. 

But last night was as perfect as one would hope for, and it was all mine. I didn't have to share him with anyone; I didn't have to give up my soul to have him, though I'm not fully certain I didn't give it to him anyway, and even if it never happens again, I get to keep it with me forever. Or for all eternity, whichever. He left early this morning with Jonathon to sell some of our items to the Museum and some other collectors, and I left him in charge of handling the financial aspects of it, because I could trust him to get it for what it was worth. 

Or more!

Goodness, listen to me; he and Jonathon, combined, have really rubbed off on me. I couldn't stand much longer being in my bed alone, so I got up and dressed. I headed for the door, when a piece of papyrus that should not have been there caught my eye, as it lay neatly folded on my desk. Atop the book of Italian Poetry. Coincidence?

I opened the papyrus gently, afraid of tearing its delicate edges. My eyes immediately accounted his sharp cursive:

_      I don't really know her, I only know her name. But once she crawls under       your skin you're never quite the same... and now it seems that I'm falling for          her..._

I could barely breathe; I just read the words and hoped my heart would continue beating soon.

          _You're the reason I live, you're the reason I die, you're the reason I give        when I break down and cry..._

          _I'll be home soon._

_          -Rick_

When I finished and started to breathe once again, I couldn't restrain the grin that spread across my face, and I hoped that I could keep this feeling mine as well.

I wish he were here now, and then I could properly thank him. I chuckled at my own audacity. This was a new Evelyn Carnahan, and I had to admit, I liked her a lot.

***

**_FINISHED PART 3, HOORAY! Now I can sleep… no, that's just silly. It took me like… a lot of days to get this done. Damn you High School and your overly demanding schedules! Damn you love life… and your… non existence! Anyway, read, enjoy, tell me about it._**

****

**_This isn't done yet, mind you, just ended it non-cliffhanger-like… hope that's okay._**

**-GIA**


	4. Countering Part 3 R VERSION

Title: Countering – Part 3

Author: GIA B

Rating: ::bites crook of her pointer finger:: An… R rating? ::gasp::

Spoilers: The Mummy

Summary: I always wondered what would have happened had Evy actually kissed Rick during her inebriated excursion… simply, my take on that situation. This is my first "Mummy" fan fiction. 

Disclaimer: Do not own the characters, nor the preceding events, but only the situation that follows. These events are mere figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to anything living or dead is purely coincidental. The poetry featured in this story is not my work, and no money is being made. Copyright infringement not intended.

**_Author's Notes: _**_Okay, so firstly, I feel terribly sorry to those who have no idea why Evelyn became all… crazy-like when Rick said the last line of the Italian poem, and the reason for that being, is because I accidentally left out the last two poems so you had no way of knowing what she was reacting to. My bad, and so I have included them here:  
  
she is a smile  
a hope, a flight  
into the blue  
a rose among the violets  
a bright sunflower,  
a cricket in the morning sun  
the perfume of juniper in the mountains  
the chirping of the birds  
the twisted olive tree  
the caress of the south wind._

_And this here was the one where he refused to say the last line, and then she called him a coward: _

with bodies, relaxed,  
that barely touched  
lost among the yellows, the pinks, the red  
flower-houses of the little wharf  
reflected in the emerald waters,  
hidden among the winding streets  
perfumed with love  
along the footpaths that carried us  
towards the sun  
among the field flowers I said  
I love you.

_Secondly (Oh dear, this is certainly becoming a long "Author's Notes"), the rating has changed and it is because the conclusion of this chapter will no doubt include sexual situations. I am also releasing the chapter with a PG-13 rating, for those of you who would rather read that. Anyway, on with the story. Oh wait, I lied, I just had a recent epiphany… In the previous part, I made reference to the Americans… which would be impossible as there would only be one since __Henderson__ was killed. Goodness me, I feel terrible about that, but one can not take back what has already been published. So further more, __Henderson__ is still alive, he joined his friend to fetch the drinks, figuring they wouldn't be long. Done and done. _J____

***

Countering – Part 3

***

We raced through Cairo streets, heading toward the Museum of Antiquities. Jonathon driving, I in the middle, O'Connell sandwiched between myself and the door, and Henderson and Daniels in the back.  

We had been safe for the most part of last night and straight through today, keeping our cat in the quarters with us, knowing Imhotep had yet to fully regenerate. Two more to go it seemed, and an additional victim to resurrect his dead love: Me. I was terribly frightened of this fact, much like one would be terribly frightened if they knew they were to be guillotined or something. I was shaking, which was a bit pathetic, but it was a scary situation we all found ourselves in. 

We had spent the entire day readying ourselves for what was assumed to be a bloody battle. I didn't want to admit it straight away, but I wasn't as anxious about fighting as I let on. I was actually quite petrified that something would go wrong, and we would all die because of me. But that's really what was happening here; we were all going to die because I read the book and brought Imhotep back. We had managed to escape the fort without O'Connell's friend Beni seeing us. The imbecile having slept on the job, gave us the perfect opportunity to leave. So now we were gone and away.

Finally, we arrived at the Museum, and I explained my theory about the books as we headed up the stairs. We were met by the curator and the Medjai, Ardeth Bay who joined us up the stairs.

"If the black book can bring someone back to life," I told O'Connell. It clicked in his head where I was heading with this.

"Then the gold book can take it away," he finished. I nodded solemnly.

"That's the myth." 

We were interrupted by loud moaning coming from the driveway of the museum.  We all ran to the window to view the spectacle of death below us. There were hundreds of people swarming the museum, covered in grotesque boils and sores. 

Jonathon couldn't help but point out the obvious in that respect, keeping up a running commentary on each of the plagues we had encountered.

"It has begun," Ardeth informed us. I wasn't going to let it end like this, there was far too much left for me to do in this world. By the way, none of which included anything to do with Mister O'Connell. I have closed that chapter of my life, indefinitely. But I still couldn't let him die, or anyone for that matter, and so I declared that we still had a chance. 

"Bembridge scholars said that the golden book of Amun-Ra was at the base of Anubis," I explained, searching the hieroglyphics on the stone in the Ancient Egyptian display. 

"That's where we found the black book," Daniels chimed in. 

"Yes, they mixed up the books… mixed up where they were located. So if the black book was at the base of Anubis, then the gold book is…" I searched as quickly as I could. Reading hieroglyphics always seemed easy, but with the pressure of the entire world being at stake it seemed harder to locate what I was looking for.

Jonathon made this fact known with his complaints.

"Patience is a virtue," I said, in my characteristic sing-song voice. O'Connell, who had been monitoring the mob, turned back towards the group.

"Not now it isn't," he replied, the terror and danger in his voice. I had to keep reading, I had to find that location, I had to save my friends.

"Got it!" I yelped when the location began to unravel, "The golden book of Amun-Ra is at the base of the statue of Horus!" There was a communal sigh heard throughout the room.

"Take that Bembridge Scholars!" I declared, throwing my fist into the air in a 'good show' type fashion. But O'Connell, never one to let any opportunity to complain pass him by, groaned.

"Don't tell me, we have to go back there."

"If we want to kill the creature," Ardeth explained, "Yes."

The crash of the museum door being smashed open, distracts us from our victory. The mob maneuvered its way past the doors and was heading our direction, all the while chanting, 'Imhotep'. Jonathon, my dear, sweet, cowardly, older brother, could not find it within himself to fight alongside Ardeth and O'Connell, and made an excuse to go fetch the car.

It was just as well, since we didn't spend much time fighting them anyway. We ran off down the hall, the curator leading us to a back exit. We exited the building, and raced towards Jonathon's car. Just as we gathered into the automobile, the snake himself Beni shouted to his prince, to bring his attention to us.   
  


"You're going to get yours, Beni, you're going to get yours!" O'Connell announced, and then sat back in the car as we sped down the drive way. 

The feeling in my stomach was disgusting. I clutched at it, as though the pressure of my hands would make it go away. I felt another pairs of hands gently squeeze my stomach sides. 

"Are you okay?" I heard O'Connell ask. I swiped his hands away.

"Bugger off," I replied. He dropped his hands, and sat stoically beside me. _That was rude,_ I thought. _Evelyn, the man was just showing concern about you, you didn't have to treat him so badly_. I didn't care at this point; he lost all opportunity to have me accept his concern when he deserted me yesterday. Now, as childish as it sounded, he was going to get my ice. 

We lurched forward, when Jonathon immediately pulled the car to a stop. There, before us, was a barricade of Imhotep's slaves. Covered in boils, and posing an immediate threat. O'Connell reacted first, by forcing Jonathon's foot on the gas using his own foot. We sailed through the street, knocking off men as we went. Several managed to hold on to the vehicle, but we dislodged the most of them. 

"O'Connell! Henderson!" That was Daniels' voice, as he was pulled to the road by a few of the slaves. We couldn't stop, but Henderson knew he had to defend his friend. He jumped off the side, and ran towards Daniels. We lost sight of them, then, and we continued as quickly as we could.

Until, of course, another obstacle developed. A large stack of rubbish lay in the street, in the most inconvenient spot. We tried to slow down to avoid it, but we were going to fast. Even with the slightly slowed pace, we crashed into the obstacles anyway. We had no time to compose ourselves, as the mob approached us quickly. I stood on the edge of the car, and went to jump. O'Connell held out his hands for me to take, to balance myself as I came to the road, but I pushed them away. He held strong though; he wasn't about to let me get rid of him completely. 

We were soon surrounded by the mob, and the threat of death seemed all too real. But they didn't approach us, but rather, spread apart to form a gap, and through this gap stepped Imhotep. 
    
    "He has consummated the curse, now all he need do is raise Anck-su-namun from the dead, then it will be the end of us, and the beginning for them," the curator said. The feeling in my stomach intensified, and suddenly, I wished O'Connell was there to give my some extra help.

He spoke to me, the Hebrew words being translated by his accomplice Beni. 

"Come with me, my Princess. It is time to make you mine, forever." Good gracious, did the man know nothing?

"For all eternity, idiot." There's a subtle difference. Imhotep extended his hand toward me, expecting me to take it. He spoke again, and again, Beni translated.

"Take my hand, and I will spare your friends." I had to. If I didn't, they would all die, and their blood would be on my hands. 

I glanced toward Jonathon, who did not look at me, then to the curator, who I hoped was thinking 'I can't lose her! She's the only one within a thousand miles who can properly code and catalogue my library!'. I didn't think that was the case, but if I was going to die, I wanted to die knowing I had friends. 

It was true; I wanted to die with friends. For the first time in my life, I had a friend who wasn't my brother. I had more then one. I had love from others, and I was giving love… to… others. No, that's not what I meant. I meant that I loved, in the friendly fashion, people other then my own family. None of whom was O'Connell. He denied my love, and therefore did not deserve it, even if I was to die. 

But even as I thought this, my head turned to look at him, torch in hand, eyes narrowed, mouth hard in defiance. Ever the hero; ever the foil to my mousy librarian type. What was I giving up, going to Imhotep? Was I sacrificing love, or was I merely defending my friends? I didn't want to dwell to long on this, but I needed a solution.

"Got any bright ideas?" I asked him.

"I'm thinking," he replied, his hand extending a bit over to cover me. 

"Well," I said, stepping closer to him, "think faster. Because if he turns me into a mummy," he turned to look at me, and I tried my hardest not to betray myself when I spoke, "you're the first one I'm coming after." With that between us, I stepped forward, towards Imhotep.

"No," I heard him say behind me. My heart sped up, and my eyes held back the tears that threatened to spill from my tear ducts. He cocked his gun, and I had to stop him from making the mistake of shooting Imhotep.

"He still has to take me back to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual," I explained. I wanted to run to him, I wanted to kiss him, because despite myself, I loved him. Despite everything I had built up, and every wall I had erected, he had gotten past them without any effort at all. I let him in, and I fell harder then I had ever fallen before in my life. 

So I did.

I ran past Imhotep to O'Connell, pushed his extended arm down, and kissed him. It was fleeting, but electric. I could have kissed him longer, forever, if Imhotep hadn't wrenched me from him, and stalked off. 

"Evelyn!" O'Connell cried, and I was so near tears I was sure I would have embarrassed myself royally if I so much as looked behind me.

"Kill them all," Imhotep said, and I translated. My eyes grew wide, and I tried to pull myself free from him.

"No! Rick! Jonathon!" What was I going to do? Tell them to run? Where? There wasn't any place to go. But I had to get away from Imhotep. "Let me go!"

I was pulled harder to follow, and I couldn't see behind me; couldn't see his face beyond the crowd. But I had to believe he made it. I had to believe he didn't die, that he would live, and it would all be okay. Even if he didn't love me as much as I loved him, even if he didn't need me as I needed him, he would be alive, and it would be okay.

I was pulled up into a gust of sand, and I blacked out. 

***

My life has never been as eventful as this past week. To sum it up in a few chaste sentences: I resurrected a 3000-year-old mummy; I've run from one side of Egypt to the other, twice! I've been chained to a sacrificial alter, fought hand-to-hand with another 3000-year-old mummy partially resurrected by the former 3000-year-old mummy; and, I fell in love.

Now the latter seems less then eventful, but truly, I must express how rare of an occurrence it is that I not only find someone attractive, but I develop intense romantic feelings for this person. The person in question is an ex-legionnaire, with roguish looks, and a fondness for being the hero to my damsel in distress. Though I wasn't one to admit weakness, when it came to fending off mummies, I was glad to allow another to be the savior. 

But he did. He saved me over, and over, and over again. He saved me from being killed so that Anck-su-namun could live, and he got me out of Hamunaptra before I was crushed under the collapse of it. All the while, I was falling harder and faster for him. A terrible state it is: being in love with a man you hate more then you can possibly imagine. But I do hate him, because I surrendered my principles so that I could be with him, and he threw it back in my face.   
  
I kissed him in the streets of Cairo, in front of Jonathon, the Curator, Ardeth, and Imhotep, because I was afraid I would never get the opportunity. Boy do I regret it, because ever since he got me back to Cairo the second time he has had a smug grin on his face. 

I have never been more inclined to slap someone in all my life.   

I bet he thinks there will be a repeat performance, but I beg to differ, after all, it was he who pushed me away the other night, and not the other way around. If only he would stop bloody grinning at me, I could get some serious work done. 

As it was, we were dating and identifying the treasure we found upon our arrival back to Cairo. Our best guess was it was that greedy rat, Beni, who had filled the saddle bags full of gold trinkets, daggers, rings, and other valuable treasures. 

"Just think, Evy," O'Connell said, lifting up a beautiful ruby pear-cut ring to the light, "we can live the rest of our lives never working ever again. You won't have to work at the museum, and I won't have to… be an unscrupulous character," he finished with a chuckle.

"Yes, well, I would much rather live alone, thank you very much and I happen to love working at the museum," I concluded, placing a gold dagger with a curved hilt into the 'sell' pile. He gave me the ever familiar, 'Evelyn-Carnahan-isn't-any-fun' look I used to receive most every day as a child in grade school, when I would rather read in the library, then play outside with Jonathon and his friends. I rolled my eyes, and picked up another artifact and examined it. 

It was silent for a while, between us, until, "Evelyn?"

"Yes?" I sighed.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry for not being able to…" he trailed off, and I was silent as I considered him. Did I really want to approach this topic, or run in the complete opposite direction? Rather then make an actual decision, I simply stared at him. He wasn't looking at me, but was kneading his fingers and knuckles. I dropped my gaze, and looked at the floor. He cleared his throat, and I saw, from beneath my eyelids, him raise his head. "Do you forgive me?"

To this I had an answer, that was easy to convey.

"No." We were silent again, and the silence felt tangible enough to cave in my chest. I could see him shake his head, before he raised his hands to wipe his face. I liked to think he was trying to scrape away his shame, but that was silly.

"Do you even know why I did it?" he asked, after a time. I didn't answer at first, but rather thought if my silence was all he got that he might up and leave, but he stayed, waited for an answer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Well," he said bitterly, "you seem to think I don't deserve your forgiveness without knowing the logic behind what I did, so I guess not." He stood then, and I took in a deep breath.

"So tell me already," I said just as he reached for the door handle. He turned, but said nothing. He leaned against the door, and slid down it, much the same way I had done that night. He bent his knees and rested his arms on them casually.

"I didn't want you to give it to me. I didn't deserve it."

"It? What are you talking about?" I shook my head, trying to clear it of his nonsense.   
  


"Your innocence," he whispered. I sat there, mouth agape, and chest heaving.   
  


"I beg your pardon," I demanded quietly, after a moment of gathering my composure.

"You heard me; your innocence. I didn't want your first time to be with me… with an _unscrupulous character_." 

"How dare you," I muttered under my breath. Getting louder, I repeated, "How dare you! Who do you think you are? You are not my brother—"

"Well," he interrupted, "if I was, we wouldn't be even having this conversation." 

"You do not get the right to choose what is best for me," I continued, as though he hadn't said a thing. "I have known some _unscrupulous characters, as you say, but you're right about one thing, you are by far the worst of them all." _

My head hurt from all the anger that flooded through my body. But there was another thing, something I couldn't identify, and it only seemed to amplify as the argument and volume increased. 

"I just wanted it be perfect!" he countered. 

I shook my head, and shouted back, "How do you know it would not have been perfect? You threw it away before we even had a chance to find out."

"It's for the best," he mumbled, "You would have regretted it later, I'm sure."  
  


"Just because you can get away with it from other girls, I'm more then positive that you've been involved with, doesn't mean I will stand for your chauvinistic attitude. I do not appreciate being treated like a child!"

"I'm not treating you--"

"But you are," I cried. My shoulders slumped forward, as the desperation engulfed me. I cried for the injustice of the tears, for the pain that provoked them, and for the love I fought so hard to keep, but struggled to let loose. 

I heard him crawl towards me, and felt him wrap his arms around me. I pushed, but he held on, and I pulled at his shirt to dislodge his hands, but he gripped tighter.

"Don't touch me," I commanded, or at least tried to, but it ended up coming out as a plea. He pulled me into his embrace, and I struggled against his strength. "Don't—"

I didn't have an opportunity to finish that order, as my mouth became otherwise occupied. Our mouths fought one another, in a tantalizing battle of wills. I needed to win, I needed to show him that not only was I not a child, but I was completely capable of governing myself. He nipped my bottom lip, and I whimpered. I bloody whimpered! It was the last reaction I expected to have to a kiss, but this one was bringing me proverbially to my knees. I clutched at his shirt, pulled him closer to me, and when he took in a breath of air, I thrust my tongue into his mouth. There, our tongues melded and dueled, caressed and attacked, won and lost.   
  
I crawled into his lap, to give myself a better angle at which to continue this kiss, and I wrapped my arms around him. I felt my desperation mirrored in him, and I clung to his lips and I waged war with my will power. As it was, my will power was very close to giving in, and making me say, "Take me now, Rick O'Connell." But I was a lady first and foremost, though it would seem that this kiss was decidedly unladylike.

I have to say that, though I may never have gotten to this point before (as it was, the man I kissed now was the second man to kiss me, and the first was a kiss stolen from me by Bobby Sullivan in eighth grade, so I rarely counted him), but I had read about it many times in the literature I was told proper women never read, but I loved to read, so I denied myself nothing. And each excerpt that featured two characters… at this point always described what I could feel right now: Rick's erection prodding at my thigh.   
  
I wanted to prove to him that I wasn't afraid, so I didn't let it bother me. In fact, it was rather empowering, to feel what I've done to him. 

He broke away from the kiss, finally, and I was panting. I gulped in a lungful of air, and he did the same. I leaned my forehead against his, and every so often I would lean my lips to capture his in a quick kiss. My eyes wanted to slip closed in exhaustion, but I refused to let them.   
  


"Rick… please, do not back away from me now. I couldn't possibly bare it a second time." I bit my lip and waited for his response, praying that it wasn't what I dreaded it to be.  
  
"I couldn't," he replied, lifting my head from his forehead, forcing my gaze to meet his, "I don't have a choice anymore."  With that, he stood, still holding me, and carried me to my bed.

"When's your brother getting back?" he asked as he laid me gently on the mattress. 

"Not for a while, no doubt. He never gets home from the casbahs until well past midnight." I pulled his shirt loose from his trousers, and my fingers shook tragically as I tried to unbutton the buttons on his shirt. He crawled unto the bed, as I continued to wrestle with the buttons, and he straddled my legs before leaning back on his heels, bringing me to a sitting position. I fumbled for a minute more, before I got too fed up with the sport of it all, and ripped open the shirt. Buttons flew in all directions, and I looked up at Rick to see if he was mad, but he just laughed. I smiled, and leaned forward to kiss his chin. 

"Lay back," he said, and I could do nothing but do as he told me to. He pushed the offensive garment off his shoulders, and threw it to the ground. He was now sitting on my legs, bare-chested and more beautiful then I had ever thought possible. I watched him, as he removed his boots, and socks, and placed them delicately on the floor. I laughed at that, and he glared amusedly at me. 

As though plotting a course of travel, he started at my lips, and then moved to my jaw, then to my chin, then on to my collar bone. When he reached the barrier of my dress shirt, one I had changed into promptly upon arriving in Cairo, he removed one button after the other from their holding. I gulped, and suddenly became nervous. My eyes shifted back and forth around the room, refusing to meet his.   
  


"Shh, sweetheart, it will be okay." My eyes slowed, and moved to his. His fingers finished with the buttons, while we kept eye contact, and a gust of cool air hit my chest and stomach as he pulled open my blouse. My breasts stood at attention, underneath my brassiere, it seemed, as he raked his eyes over me. "You're so beautiful." I shook my head, tossing away his compliment. "You are," he affirmed, as he leaned forward and kissed just above my breast line. I gulped again, and he kissed my throat, his five-o'clock shadow brushing against my neck, and causing a pleasurable feeling to sweep through my stomach.

My hips lifted a bit, to change to a more comfortable position on the bed, and my eyes slipped closed as I let him kiss his way down my throat, to above my bra. I was shocked by the sensation, but did not protest. I felt his tongue snake out, and lick my… nipple, (There, I said it!) through the fabric of my bra. I gasped audibly, for what else was I to do when my entire body went weak.

"Rick," I groaned, punctuating my sentiment, "I need you. I…" I trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at my audacity. I bit my lip, and he kissed it, trying to release it from my strong hold. I captured his lips as his hands slid up my sides to caress my breasts. I gasped into our kiss, and felt his tongue swallow it up, felt myself lifting up to meet him. When I did so, he pulled my blouse completely off, pushed my bra straps off, and with an inspired ease, unsnapped my brassiere, and tossed them both to join his shirt. 

My hands scraped up his stomach and his pectoral muscles, and under his arms to come up around his shoulders. I held him to me, as we kissed. My brows furrowed as I tried hard not to be overcome by emotion. I felt, before I actually noticed it happening, tears run down my cheek. He kissed each of them away, and I trembled. 

He leaned down, to lay me flush against the linens, and he stood and removed his pants and undergarments. I gulped, and my breathing quickened. When he was finished, he stood before me, bare of all clothing and I could do nothing but stare. He grinned sheepishly, than dropped his eyes. I reached for the buttons on the side of my skirt, but fumbled embarrassingly.   
  
He giggled, as I continued to struggle, and then I finally released the buttons and pulled away my skirt to reveal a pair of simple white cotton underwear. He watched as I rose from the bed, stepped to be in front of him, and pushed the undergarment down my thighs. He gulped, and I grinned. When they hit the floor, I closed my eyes and winced a bit. 

This marked the first moment I've ever been completely nude in front of a man in my entire adult life. I was expecting him to laugh, to walk away, or to walk away and be laughing. He did neither of these things, so I chanced a peek with one eye, and caught him staring at me in awe. 

"I don't know if you've heard this often enough in your lifetime, but I can tell you for a fact, that in mine, I won't stop saying it," he murmured and then gave me his trademark grin. "You. Are. Gorgeous." I offered my hand and he took it, and we walked towards the bed. I kneeled on it, and he followed. I kneeled before him, our hands the only connection between us, and then his hands slid up my arms to rest comfortably on my shoulders. He gave a gentle push, and I knew he meant for me to lie down, so I did.

He stretched on his side beside me, and trailed his fingers down my collar bone, over my breasts, down my stomach, and back again. I was shivering by the time he made the trip back up, and was absolutely trembling when he made the trip again, this time with his lips that met my skin in the faintest of whispers. 

"No more…" I managed, "I can't… take it anymore." He kissed my navel, and then made his way back up, adding his tongue to the assault. I was gasping and panting when his mouth met mine again, and I was thankful for the reprieve. He placed his hands by my head, and I clutched at his forearms and wrists with my hands. He stretch out above me, on all fours, and kissed my throat. 

When he raised his head, his eyes bore a question that begged an answer. Was I sure about this? I was sure that I could never do this with another man, because it was too precious a moment that I would not want to do it with anyone but him. I couldn't say that, so I merely nodded my head slowly but surely.

His lips met mine again, as he settled down atop me. I tried not to react too harshly, to be afraid, and so I lay still beneath him. 

"I don't know what to do," I said helplessly, "you'll have to tell me."

"Sure, I'll help you, if you'll teach me how to breathe." I grinned and he kissed me again. He pulled a centimeter or so away from my lips before he gave me the first instruction. "Put your arms up under my arms, around my shoulders," he whispered. I did as he said, and pulled him closer, feeling his chest connect with mine. It was amazing, the skin against skin feeling of him, of us. "Bend your legs," he continued, and I again did what he said without hesitation. He settled more fully against me, between my bent legs, and I could feel him full and erect against my inner thigh. He brought his eyes to mine, and he saw the nervousness resurrected in my eyes.

"You can still say no, now." I couldn't have said, 'no' if it meant life or death, at that moment. I just pulled him down towards my lips and he kissed me briefly. He raised his head, once again, and he looked distressed. "I… this is going to hurt, but… I'll make it as painless as I possibly can." I nodded, having already anticipated that, and I held my breath.

Nothing could prepare me for the splitting pain I felt. But he went slowly, inch by inch, each advancement having a moment for me to adjust to his size. Soon he was all the way in, and I let out the breath I had held. I was glad, at that moment, for having been a horseback rider. I don't think I would have been able to show my face to him again if I had bled this first time. 

"Are you okay?" he breathed, and I opened my clenched eyes. What I saw there was the most beautifully, genuine show of concern I'd ever seen from anyone. 

"Rick I…" I wanted to confess everything. Wanted to tell him that no matter what happened after this, I could never share this kind of intimacy with another. That I loved him more then I had ever loved anyone before, and that I truly did believe this was perfect.  But I couldn't, so instead I said, "Yes, I'm fine."

He pulled out slowly, and my head reeled back. That was the most exquisite feeling, that I had ever experienced, and I prayed I would get another chance to feel it. And I did. He pushed back into me, and the wave of heat flushed over my body. Our lips met each other, and we were dropping fleeting kisses, and sharing each others breath. 

I felt another wave of heat pass over me, and my hips rose to meet his. A rhythm developed soon, and it was perfect. His left hand caressed my stomach, as he balanced above me with his other hand, and his hand slowly moved down to the juncture between my legs. I felt him slid his fingers along my inner folds, and I was lost.

I couldn't control my hips, and he responded in kind. Soon there were these whimpering sounds, I had to admit were coming from me, which filled the room. And soon I was falling. Not literally falling, but coming down off some high plateau, and I couldn't help it, but I let out an embarrassing moan.   
  


"That was amazing," I muttered. He laughed, and continued to push in and out of me. "You're amazing I said," and then I raised my legs to wrap around his middle. He pushed into me one last hard thrust, and I felt him spill his seed inside of me. 

This was what I imagined perfect to be.

***

When I awoke the next morning, the blankets, which we had neglected more or less the night before, were around me to my chin. I snuggled further in, feeling the warmth on my bare skin. I knew he wasn't there, so I wasn't surprised when I rolled over to take up more room that I didn't encounter his equally warm, naked body. 

I opened my eyes slowly, flipped onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling. I ached in places I had no idea even existed, and it made me grin to think how I discovered their existence. But at what cost? I suddenly wondered. Had I thrown away all my principles for what could be coined as being, "One night of bliss"?

No, I had just finally gotten the courage to express how I felt. 

But I hadn't said the words, and that was what scared me, to be brutally honest. I didn't think I could possibly love someone, or something, other then my beloved career and what I had left of my family. It scared me, but I did. I had tested the waters that first night, when _Mr. O'Connell got me a bit inebriated, and then I couldn't go forward. _

I was scared that I was going to give in to someone who couldn't possibly return my feelings, and I was always told love is better when it's reciprocated. So I pulled back, and gave him the cool treatment for a while. He took a few liberties with me a day or so later, in my bedroom, when he commanded I stay there. I felt vibrancy in our kiss that had not existed in the kiss before. A newness that felt ageless, timeless, real, and old all at the same time. I would have given in right then as well, but he had a duty he wanted to maintain, and so it ended, and he sparked my anger once more by not allowing me the opportunity to clean up my own mess like some bloody hero! Then he came back that night, having not brought the Egyptologist with him, and having had a bad run-in with the creature. He crashed in my living room with one of my books, choosing not to play cards with Jonathon and the others. I didn't mind, because soon after, he read me some poetry in Italian. Then we kissed, and I had him at my mercy… at least for a moment or two. 

But last night was as perfect as one would hope for, and it was all mine. I didn't have to share him with anyone; I didn't have to give up my soul to have him, though I'm not fully certain I didn't give it to him anyway, and even if it never happens again, I get to keep it with me forever. Or for all eternity, whichever. He left early this morning with Jonathon to sell some of our items to the Museum and some other collectors, and I left him in charge of handling the financial aspects of it, because I could trust him to get it for what it was worth. 

Or more!

Goodness, listen to me; he and Jonathon, combined, have really rubbed off on me. I couldn't stand much longer being in my bed alone, so I got up and dressed. I headed for the door, when a piece of papyrus that should not have been there caught my eye, as it lay neatly folded on my desk. Atop the book of Italian Poetry. Coincidence?

I opened the papyrus gently, afraid of tearing its delicate edges. My eyes immediately accounted his sharp cursive:

_      I don't really know her, I only know her name. But once she crawls under       your skin you're never quite the same... and now it seems that I'm falling for          her..._

I could barely breathe; I just read the words and hoped my heart would continue beating soon.

          _You're the reason I live, you're the reason I die, you're the reason I give        when I break down and cry..._

          _I'll be home soon._

_          -Rick_

When I finished and started to breathe once again, I couldn't restrain the grin that spread across my face, and I hoped that I could keep this feeling mine as well.

I wish he were here now, and then I could properly thank him. I chuckled at my own audacity. This was a new Evelyn Carnahan, and I had to admit, I liked her a lot.

***

**_FINISHED PART 3, HOORAY! Now I can sleep… no, that's just silly. It took me like… a lot of days to get this done. Damn you High School and your overly demanding schedules! Damn you love life… and your… non existence! Anyway, read, enjoy, tell me about it._**

****

**_This isn't done yet, mind you, just ended it non-cliffhanger-like… hope that's okay._**

**-GIA**


End file.
